


pulsum et tractum

by thedeeproads (alis)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/thedeeproads
Summary: "Cullen turned, and Dorian stood there, mouth slanted in amusement. He tried to pretend his stomach didn't flutter when he looked at the man, but he felt like he failed, if the way Dorian's smile grew a little bit sharper was anything to go by. Cullen coughed, looking away."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acaranna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acaranna/gifts).



> Unbeta'ed, so any mistakes and excess of commas are my own doing. Enjoy!

Cullen rubbed his nose, feeling tiredness seep into his bones. There were unending piles of documents in front of him, and he was sure that even more documents were to be added before the light was out of the sky. The thought alone was enough to make Cullen's head twinge with was sure to become a terrible headache in a couple of hours. It didn't help that his hands were trembling ever so slightly today; a sure sign that soon he would be grinding his teeth in frustration as the need grew harsher inside his head. Cullen had had his fill of bad days to know when one would be particularly challenging.

It didn't help that the Inquisitor and inner circle were gone for weeks now. The last raven gave grim accounts about the situation in the Exalted Plains, and Cullen was worried. He knew that Leliana was keeping a close eye on the proceedings, and Cullen trusted her people to keep things under control, but there were only so much they could do for the Inquisitor and the others. A huge part of the things that had to be done, had to be done by them alone, and that...That was a jarring thought.

Tired, Cullen tried again read the report in his hand, but failed once more, as the words blurred. Frustration welled up inside his chest, and he considered dropping things for a moment in favor of making rounds on the battlements, when a well-known horn sounded. Cullen dropped the report and turned to the narrow window behind him. There was a group of people crossing the bridge into Skyhold, all of them familiar, even from distance.

The Inquisitor was back with his party.

Cullen quickly counted their forms. All of them were present, and all of them were walking the bridge with their own two legs instead of carried. He was sure some or a bit worse than when they left, but nothing that rest and a bit of healing couldn't undo. Cullen let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Relief washed through him, losing his tension and dissipating some of the constant feeling of dread he felt.

"Praised be the Maker," Cullen whispered under his breath. Later, he would put his knee on the cold hard floor and make a proper prayer in gratitude for their safety. For now, that was all he could manage.

He probably should go down and welcome the Inquisitor, but, if Cullen was to be honest to himself, it wasn't the Inquisitor he wanted to go and greet. Still stuck by doubt, Cullen had his thoughts in interrupted by a messenger arrival.

"Commander, Sir. The Inquisitor is back with his companions. Ambassador Montilyet informs there will be a meeting in the War Room, as soon as the Inquisitor is ready, Sir."

Cullen snorted. Of course Josie wanted them to meet the moment the Inquisitor set foot on Skyhold. Nobles were probably breathing down her neck with insane demands and requisitions, demanding absurd when the Inquisition was already dealing with the impossible. Cullen had his own fair share of demands to deal with, and he didn't envy Josephine in the slightest. Andraste gave him patience, but he hated the nobility with a dispassionate intensity.

He still did his job. His personal feelings had nothing to do with his responsibilities as the commander of the Inquisition's forces. He would deal with a thousand nobles, if that could bring them a step closer to victory.

Cullen distractedly thanked the messenger, who saluted and departed without another word.

Feeling that he should as well use the time he had to spare wisely, Cullen went to meet with the inner circle. Soon he would be unable to leave the War Room, so he should at least see if any of them needed something, or even if he could debrief them. Not all of the inner circle bothered turning in written recounts of their travels, so sometimes Cullen had to rely on their oral explanations. Cole never managed to turn in a report; though he often left other things on Cullen's table, like a piece of cheese, or a skin of elfroot-infused water, things eerily timed with Cullen's own needs. Or Sera, whom Cullen would rather she didn't turn in any report anyway, since her reports often came accompanied with tricks.

He left his office, cutting a path through Solas' room, and quickly leaving the main hall. He saw a noble woman perk up at his presence, and speed up his step, lest he was stopped with some inane demand or, perish the thought, some absurd proposition. Maker have mercy, but those happened often enough.

As he reached the yard, when the Inquisitor's party crossed the inner gates. Cullen took a closer look at the inner circle. As it often was, Vivienne left the group to be by herself on her quarters above the main hall. She greeted Cullen pleasantly before disappearing. Solas trailed not far behind, only acknowledging Cullen with a nod, before going.

The Inquisitor looked well, if tired, holding the imposing helmet under the arm, and talking softly with Cassandra.

The Inquisitor perked up at Cullen's approach, offering a warm smile in greeting. They might have not seen eye to eye all the time, but Cullen had deep respect for the Inquisitor and the choices made for the Inquisition. If Cullen would've chosen different, it meant nothing but that they were different people. The choices proved right up until now, and Cullen appreciated that.

"Commander," The Inquisitor said, voice betraying more tiredness than Cullen expected, "Everything is alright, I assume."

"Inquisitor, Cassandra. Good to see you back. Everything goes as expected. I should tell you that the Ambassador is waiting for you in the War Room as soon as you're ready."

"Ah, came to drag me, didn't you? There goes my plans for a bath and a nap," The Inquisitor joked, but Cullen could see the wariness behind the words.

"Take pity, Curly!" Varric said and Cullen smiled at the dwarf. He was fond of Varric, despite everything, "We've just arrived back."

The Iron Bull put one hand on Cullen's shoulder, making him feel small as he often did. It was disconcerting, to say the least, but Cullen appreciated Iron Bull as a warrior and they had a unexpected camaraderie going.

"Pretend you didn't see us, Commander. Boss owes us a casket of good ale."

"I do not!" The Inquisitor squeaked, and they laughed.

"Ya promised us, don't go back on your word! Gotta drink ourselves under the table!" Sera whooped and laughed, as she hand from Blackwall's back. Their friendship was something Cullen didn't understand, but appreciated.

The trio waved as they made haste in the direction of the tavern, followed by an amused Varric. Only then Cullen saw Cole trailing behind them, barely visible as it was. That part would never stop being disconcerting.

"Remind me again why I did that," The Inquisitor groaned, but it was all amusement and no regrets.

"I warned you against it. You did not heed my warning."

"Ah, true that. Remind me of this next time I decide to ignore your wise input, Cassandra."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, looking completely unmoved.

"I always do. You always ignore it."

"I'm a fool, what can I say."

Cullen stiffed a laugh, and Cassandra just shook her head in response, apparently amused against her will. It was no secret she was fond of the Inquisitor, as impossible as that seemed when they both first met.

"I believe I'll see you later, Cullen," Cassandra said in a guise of goodbye, and left.

There was only one person left in the yard beside the Inquisitor, and Cullen tried his best not to look at him. He focused on the Inquisitor, and then regretted it immediately. There was something on that gaze that revealed much more understanding than Cullen would like to think about.

"Well, I was just relying the message that was given to me," Cullen said, feeling himself blush. Damned be constitution. "As it is, I believe that when you're ready can very well wait until later." The Inquisitor threw Cullen a smirk tinged with relief, and Cullen continued, with a smile himself. "In fact, one can imagine that some pressing matters might appear to prevent my immediate presence in the War Room."

The Inquisitor got closer, and put one hand on Cullen's arm. There was a hint of shaking that Cullen knew was exhaustion. A rest was much needed.

"Thank you, Cullen. Could you send word that I'll retreat to my quarter for a little while? I feel like I'm awake for a week now. Hah, as it is, I might as well be."

"Of course."

The Inquisitor squeezed his arm before moving along, and Cullen noticed the hesitant step, the weariness. He would check later if the Inquisitor needed anything, even if it was someone to talk to.

This war was hard on them all, in some more than others.

"Aren't you a gentleman, rescuing our dearest Inquisitor from an afternoon of bore."

Cullen turned, and Dorian stood there, mouth slanted in amusement. He tried to pretend his stomach didn't flutter when he looked at the man, but he felt like he failed, if the way Dorian's smile grew a little bit sharper was anything to go by. Cullen coughed, looking away.

"I guess it's nothing but a deserved rest."

"Ah, yes. It wasn't a lie, the not sleeping part," Dorian made a pause, and added in a quieter tone, full of worry, "I think sleep was the last thing done by our friend."

"That bad?"

Dorian shook his head, grimacing as he looked up, to where the Inquisitor's quarter was located. From that angle, they couldn't even see the balcony.

"Worse," he answered.

Cullen nodded, understanding why part of the inner circle made haste for the tavern. Each one of them dealt as they could, and if it was ale that they needed, or solitude, or sleep. Cullen wasn't going to take that away from them. Reports could wait. So could meetings.

He was brought back from his own grim thoughts by Dorian's hand on his elbow.

"Walk with me, will you. As much as the weather isn't as horrible as usual, I would rather go inside and warm myself."

He picked the pack to the main hall, and Cullen wondered if he was going to assume his usual place in the library, or if he was going to his quarters. Cullen tried and failed not to blush at the idea of accompanying Dorian to his bedroom.

Shaking himself, Cullen focused on something other than his inappropriate thoughts. As they ascended the stone steps to the main hall, Dorian winced, and adjusted his step.

"Are you injured?" Cullen asked worriedly, one hand instinctively coming to rest on the small of Dorian's back.

Dorian looked at Cullen, one eyebrow raised and a small smile curling the corner of his mouth. Cullen almost pulled it away, but Dorian pressed back into his hand minutely and Cullen struggled not to step closer or pull Dorian closer. Maybe both.

"Why there, my dear Commander, one would think you're worried about my well-being. How scandalous!"

"I am," Cullen answered, not biting Dorian's bait at levity. By the look on the other man's face, he wasn't expecting so.

They stared at each other for a touch longer than completely appropriate, before they both mutually put a little distance between them. There were people coming and going around them, and, while Cullen had no problem with the rumors that were certain to arise, he wasn't sure Dorian felt the same way. In fact, Cullen was heavily inclined to believe that the man did care about said rumors, especially when they weren't true. Not on Dorian's end, anyway.

"Come," Dorian said softly, as he started walking again, "I'm filthy, exhausted and in dire need of a drink. Are you free enough to spend some time away from your desk?"

"I never am, but I'll open an exception today."

"Good."

Cullen had imagined right about going to Dorian's quarters. He could only imagine how much the rumors would escalate now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Maybe he would, later, when he had to face Leliana's knowing stare across the War Table, or when, inevitably, someone decided to question his loyalty when he was associating himself to a Tevinter mage.

He shook his head. He was getting way ahead of himself. Nothing happened. Those rumors were just that: inane gossip that had not a shred of truth in it.

Or maybe a tiny shred, if Cullen's desires were anything to be considered.

Dorian stopped by one of the rooms above the garden, a door exactly like the others. He knew part of the inner circle slept here, and, in all honesty, Cullen was well aware which bedroom belonged to Dorian. He had never set foot inside after Dorian started living there, though, and curiosity gnawed on him.

"As much as I loathe to be the one to point this out," Dorian started, pausing for the tiniest moment. His hesitation was atypical, and Cullen frowned at it, "...I want nothing more than to sit down, drink a bottle of wine and talk about trivialities until I'm tired enough sleep will take me."

There was something in Dorian's tone that was off. Too dry, despite the words he was saying. Cullen tried to understand. He was asking Cullen to stay, and Cullen had agreed already. What was the unspoken but?

"I thought I said I didn't mind spending the afternoon with you," Cullen answered lightly, one hand trailing on the fur around his neck.

"No, you said you could, not that you wanted to."

Cullen resisted the urged to put one hand over his mouth, a gesture he used sometimes while trying to figure out a particularly tricky chess setup. In that moment, Dorian was such, a board full of traps laid that Cullen couldn't quite see. If he failed, chess would be Dorian retreating by himself, he knew.

Good thing he was good at chess.

"I thought that, between spending my afternoon with you or signing endless requirements from the Quartermaster, it was a given which I would choose," Cullen answered, with a hint of amusement that he hoped that would light Dorian's expression.

It didn't.

"Was it."

"Dorian."

" _Cullen_."

He decided that maybe a more direct approach was needed. Dorian could run laps around him when he was particularly inspired, and Cullen didn't have the inclination for such.

"Why are you stalling?" He asked, and Dorian blinked a couple of timed, before throwing his head back and laughing.

It should be quite ridiculous that Cullen couldn't help but feel endeared by someone's laughter. Maker preserve him...

"Ah, am I this transparent, perish the thought!" Dorian said with typical affectation, before leaning against his bedroom door. He eyed Cullen for a moment, before sighing tiredly. "I should warn you that people will talk."

"I know," He answered simply.

Dorian didn't seem mollified at that. He kept the same analyzing look, and Cullen wondered if _he_ was, to Dorian, the difficult puzzle to solve.

"Do you? They are going to question why the mighty Commander of the Inquisition is alone with the evil Tevinter mage in his quarters, doing what's probably some unthinkable perversion. This can reflect badly at your reputation."

Ah, yes, Cullen thought to himself darkly. He had heard that one before, actually, not that he would ever enlighten Dorian about it. People noticed their chess games, as much as they noticed the nights with Wicked Grace Varric often arranged. People noticed those things, and they talked about it. Rumors were an invisible force inside Skyhold, whispers and tales traded back and forth for amusement or power. There was nothing unusual about it: an army was much the same, so was the Circle. Put people together for an extended time, and they'll find entertainment in talking about _other_ people.

It didn't bother Cullen. It didn't bother him when he overheard one of his lieutenants talking about it, and it didn't bother him when Leliana commented on it, tone much to light not to mean something. Cullen addressed both situations as necessary, putting a stop when it was needed, placating Leliana about his awareness about the subject.

Some people had less of entertainment in mind, and more malicious desires for gossiping, but Cullen was well-versed in those as well, and he cut those off before it became an issue. Dorian wasn't the only controversial thing in Cullen's life. His lyrium addiction was just as much of an weapon against him as anything else.

"I know," Cullen repeated, in much the same tone he had before. He did. How naive did Dorian take him for?

"Good." Dorian's expression hardened in a telling way "So thank for escorting me here--"

Cullen interrupted him before he went on.

"I said I knew, not that I minded. I _don't_ , you know. I'm not unaware of how people work, Dorian. I might not be as sharp as Josephine for the most complex details of interacting with nobles, but I can hardly command people if I cant' read them."

Dorian said nothing, eying Cullen with the sort of blank expression that meant he was hiding his true emotions. Cullen wanted for Dorian to let go, to show whatever was going through his mind, but he knew better than to call him out on it.

"You don't mind, then."

"I think that's what I'm saying, yes," Cullen drawled,

"Well, you should."

"Dorian. If you want me here, I'm here. If you're going to invite me in, do it sooner than later."

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told before."

Dorian shook his head and unlocked the bedroom's room, lighting a candle with a flick of his wrist, before sitting heavily on the bedroom. Cullen closed the door behind him, and watched as Dorian unceremoniously took off coat, dumping it over the wooden chest by the wall. It was such an uncharacteristic act for Dorian, who was always perfectly kept, that Cullen had trouble containing his smile.

"Why, man. Don't just stand there. Take the chair. Never let it be said that I'm such an ungracious host that doesn't invite his guests to sit."

Cullen did smile at that, and took the chair by the table. There was a number of books and papers around, and Cullen tried not to pry, though his eyes landed on curious diagrams and magical symbols. It seemed that Dorian's thirst for knowledge didn't restrict itself to the library.

"I'm afraid I don't have a chessboard here, now that I think about it," Dorian commented, as he pulled off his boots, making fast work of the the buckles and knots. Cullen watched hypnotized as his fingers worked for a moment, "Or cards. You're stuck with me, I suppose."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing," Cullen said easily, and was rewarded by Dorian shocked expression. He ignored it, pointing over his shoulder, to the table full of papers behind him, "What are you studying?"

Dorian paused for a moment, as he put his boots aside, and moved to take off the harness around his chest and one shoulder.

"That? Oh, it's incredibly dull work," Dorian said, tone flippant, getting his shoulder free, before "I'm…Trying to salvage parts of a…research."

His research with _Alexius_ , Cullen realized, feeling his mouth dry. Dorian wasn't looking at him, but maybe he sensed the silence become charged, because he added in a hard tone.

"I'm not stupid enough to try to reproduce what he has done. I would _never_. I mean only to study and see if any of it is of any use to us. Any _safe_ use," Dorian huffed, and Cullen watched him throw one of his leather gauntlets on the mattress, a rare demonstration of frustration, "The Inquisitor is aware of what I am doing."

"I didn't think you would--"

"You did."

Annoyance bloomed in Cullen's chest faster than he could stop it.

"Don't presume what I do or don't, Dorian!"

Dorian startled, if at the forceful way Cullen said it or his words, Cullen couldn't say.

"I…"

Cullen took a breath, trying to stop his temper from flaring. He understood what Dorian was doing, but he also had no interest in his blatant avoidance.

"I don't think you the 'evil Tevinter mage', as you kindly put it. I don't think many of us believe that."

Dorian sniffed sensibly.

"Some people do believe that, though. I daresay most people do."

Cullen sighed, and Dorian still refused to look him in the eye.

"People believe what they'll believe," Cullen said, "But I would think that those of us that are closer to you, trust you. You should know better than that."

"Do I, now?"

"Dorian…"

"Kaffas…I'm unbearably maudlin, and I haven't even opened the wine yet. I apologize. I didn't mean to make this…" He trailed off, as if in lack of a word to define, "Unpleasant."

"What did you expect then?" Cullen asked, with a small smile.

Dorian hesitated, mouth working soundless for the briefest moment, before he covered it up with a more neutral expression, and Cullen could almost see him struggling with the opening Cullen was giving him.

"I expected to be well drunk now and possibly on my way to sleep," Dorian said in a dry tone.

"This sounds like my cue to leave. Is that what you desire?"

Dorian shook his head, and stood up, wincing a bit as he did.

"You _are_ injured," Cullen accused, and Dorian rolled his eyes with affectation.

On a corner table, there was a bottle of wine and three glasses. Dorian picked two and the bottle, giving one to Cullen. When Cullen declined, Dorian just raised one eyebrow, and he relented. One glass wasn't about to impair his capacity for work today. Andraste saved him, he had drunk much more during his run on Kirkwall both out of necessity, in more ways than one.

"About your injury…"

"Aren't you persistent. In anyone else it wouldn't be as charming."

This time, Cullen was the one raising one eyebrow. Or trying. That gesture looked much more natural in Dorian that it did on Cullen.

"Never fear. My barrier went out sooner than I thought, and I got hit by one of the defense beans in Citadelle Du Corbeau. It wasn't a full hit, of course, or I would've been fried on the spot. I think falling hurt me more than the bean."

Dorian sounded flippant, but his tone was strained. Cullen remembered Dorian mentioning how bad Exalted Plains had been, and how the inner circle looked worse for wear.

"Do you want to see anyone? I can ask a healer to come here or maybe a potion...?"

"You _do_ care--" Dorian blurted, surprised, before blinking confusedly and asking, almost against his will, "Do you truly care about me?"

" _Yes._ How could I not?"

Dorian baulked at that for a moment, looking both baffled and overwhelmed by his words. Cullen felt like asking, like prying the reason behind that reaction from Dorian, but he knew it wasn't his place. One day, maybe.

"I wouldn't worry, Commander. Our dear Inquisitor already took care of that. I'm mostly sore."

He filled Cullen's cup with wine before filling his own and sitting down on the bed again. He drained the whole cup in one go, before refilling. Cullen sipped at a more sedated pace.

"I don't want you to leave," Dorian said eventually, as he drank his second cup at alarming speed, and it took Cullen a moment to recall what Dorian meant, before he remembered asking if Dorian wanted him to leave. "What I do desire, though, is to erase the last fifteen minutes of conversation and start again without making a sad mess out of it," Dorian said.

"Let me make it easier for you, then."

Cullen stood up, safely leaving his glass at the table. Giving Dorian plenty of time to react, if so he desired to. He stopped in front of the mage, peering at him for a moment. He took in the blown pupils, and the faint shiver going through Dorian's body as he waited in anticipation. He took in the hand curled in a tight fist against the bed covers, and the other clutching the glass as if his life depended on him. How Dorian was leaning forward ever so slightly, apparently unconscious of doing so.

Cullen thought of the long wait for Dorian to come back from whatever the Inquisition kept sending him. He thought of the anxiety at every raven arriving with updates, and he thought of the relief of seeing the man crossing Skyhold's bridge unharmed.

Cullen considered himself a simple man. He might be chronically shy at times, and he might have a hard time expressing his affections, but, much like in battle, there was no space for hesitance once he decided to take action. He knew where his affections laid. All he had to do was make a leap of faith.

He put one hand on Dorian's cheek, caressing for a moment, before taking Dorian's glass from his hand, and putting it aside. Dorian opened his mouth, as if to argue, but didn't. He didn't seem to be even breathing, and Cullen wondered exactly when this man had carved a space for himself inside his chest.

He leaned in and kissed him. It was nothing more than a press of lips, breaths mingling as he marveled at the softness of Dorian's lip, and slight tickle of his mustache. He reveled on the warmth of Dorian's hand as it gripped the back of his head, pulling him closer.

A whimper escaped one of them, and Cullen was fairly sure it was Dorian. He inclined his head to the side a bit further, and bit Dorian's lower lip just so, and was rewarded with Dorian opening his mouth under his. Dorian kissed much like he was, fire and caution, tempered with a tightly controlled desire to let go. It was every bit as enthralling as Cullen thought it would be. Kissing Dorian didn't quench the fire in his heart; it just made it flare bigger, more demanding, sharper.

Their kiss deepened, tongues touching and Cullen had to resist the need to craw over Dorian, and, by the way Dorian was already half way up, it seemed he felt the same. Still, a voice inside Cullen's head kept telling him to slow down, so he did. It helped that his position wasn't the best; he wasn't sure he would have the willpower to pull away, as he needed to. As much as he wanted nothing more to sink into Dorian's arms, maybe slowing down wasn't the worst strategy there.

Pulling back, Cullen took a moment for himself, resting his forehead against as Dorian's, as he tried to slow down his racing heart. Dorian was panting ever so slightly, hot breath against his cheek, and Cullen was _burning_.

Eventually they pulled apart enough so Cullen could see Dorian, the way his face was tinged with a red blush that Cullen had never seen before. To think that he was the one to cause that…

"That was…Unexpected," Dorian said, and his voice was rough, lacking it's usual intonation. He just sounded amazed and raw.

"But not unwanted," Cullen said, lilting it as a question, without really meaning to. Dorian smiled at him, and Cullen tried his best not to look as smitten as he felt.

He was sure he failed.

"Most certainly not. But I didn't think you would…" Dorian trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand, and Cullen rumbled a laugh.

"Take the reigns of the situation? Well, I wasn't going to, if I'm to be honest. I wasn't sure, but then you were stalling harder than I was."

That made Dorian laugh, a deep, rich sound, that Cullen wanted to taste with his own lips. He didn't lean in, though, only trailed Dorian's cheek with his hand, smiling softly as Dorian's laughter died and badly concealed fondness took place.

"Never thought our good Commander to be this forward."

"Yet, my forwardness is welcome, so I'm counting it as a victory."

He moved up the bed, resting against the headboard, before patting the bed suggestively. Cullen sat down in front of Dorian, even if the bulk of his armor made it impossible to get properly comfortable, no matter how used to it he was.

"What now, Commander?" Dorian asked. There was an edge to his tone, and Cullen wondered about it.

"Now I think we drink the wine you poured; never let it be me to waste perfectly good wine," Cullen started, "And then, I think we could talk."

Dorian made an gesture for him to go on, and crossed his arms. So defensive. Cullen took his hands. He couldn't feel much, not with his gauntlets still on, but the tension was obvious.

"I said wine first, didn't I?"

"Better get this out of the way already, don't you think?"

"Maker, I said talk, not duel to death, Dorian," Cullen joked, but Dorian didn't as much as smile back, and Cullen sighed. "I just want you to know that…I'm here. Don't mistake my impulsiveness for what it isn't; this has been in my mind for the longest of time now."

"Commander, I..."

"Just let me finish, please. This," Cullen gestured between them, "I would tell you not to be so apprehensive, but I know better than that. I'm putting my cards on the table for you to see, because that's how I am. I'm not asking the same back of you. I'm not asking anything, actually. We go slow. We can also not go at all, if that's what you want."

"What if we want different things?"

"We try to work it out."

"If that isn't possible?"

"If it comes to that, we do as we see fit."

Dorian looked like he wanted to bolt from his own bedroom, and Cullen waited. He almost could sense Dorian going on how that was a mistake, and he wondered if maybe he had pushed too much.

"You…You're never quite exactly what I expect you to be."

"I'll take that as a good thing."

"We'll see," Dorian paused for the longest time, "I believe you mentioned drinking before. Get me my wine, if you may. Let me tell you about what Sera did while we were camping in Fens Camp. That girl, Andraste save me."

Cullen smiled softly and kissed him again, and Dorian responded in kind, still with guarded hesitance. Cullen could work around that. Maybe words would be too much for Dorian as of now, but he could convey his feelings little by little.

He had time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Dragon Age fic. Me, anxious and terrified about it? Imagine that!
> 
> "pulsum et tractum" means "push and pull", by the way. Why? Because they are pretty much pushing and pulling this entire fic. And because Tevene reminds me of Latin. 
> 
> Based on the prompt "Do you care about me", sent by [](http://acaranna.tumblr.com>Sue</a>.)


End file.
